


Well Taken Care Of

by strikeyourcolors



Series: Control(led) Issues [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Affection, Drugged Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, M/M, Questioning, Sickfic, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9902189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikeyourcolors/pseuds/strikeyourcolors
Summary: Dick gets sick. Jason probably takes care of him and maybe takes a little bit of advantage. This leads to a game of not-quite-ten questions and a lot more information than either can process. Neither one of them is sure why it's so easy for their relationship to fit the situation.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to the next installment! There's less kink in this one. The tags are from an over-abundance of caution rather than anything actually seedy going on, don't worry. I have a few more parts of this pre-written but I'm still eager if anyone has any particular suggestions they'd like to see (relationship closure or kink wise) before the end of the series.
> 
> This is Part 4 and it holds up decently as a stand alone, but will probably make more sense if you read the previous three pieces.

Tim is a plague carrier, because the minute he leaves, Dick gets sick. 

They spent the weekend amiably enough. Robin joined him for patrol and Tim followed him around basically every waking moment and there's part of him that loves the idol worship thing he has going for him because it strokes his ego. There's another part of him that just wants to take a piss in peace without Tim hovering by the doorway, continuing to extol the virtues of routing a server through Japan instead of China or something else Dick doesn't quite understand and doesn't want to listen to. 

Dick isn't stupid but Tim is incredibly smart in a way that makes him glad because it will keep Tim alive, and jealous because Tim already exceeds him as Robin in certain areas. Dick will always have his quadruple flips and Tim really has to work at the smart-ass quips in the heat of battle, but Tim is also kind of amazing. Dick remembers that Jason hates him, and strives to love Tim all the more for it as difficult as that is sometimes.

He does not love Tim for giving him this virus. And that's what the doctor had said, when his boss sent him miserably to a walk in clinic. A virus that's rampaging through the school system right about now. Antibiotics won't help. Take medication to ease the symptoms. Return in a week if there has been no improvement. This is punishment for how badly he's failing at emotional connections with Bruce's other sons. He gets to throw up on an already raw throat and suffocate in his own nasal fluid. During one of his more impressive medication binges he actually contemplates suggesting a super villain plot along these lines. 

Dick exists on the couch or in his bed, in and out of consciousness, for at least two days. He doesn't question the bottles of water that show up by his head or the trash can mysteriously moved beside his bed or the blanket that gets draped over him when he falls asleep in the hallway between bed and couch. He thinks he remembers a text from Tim about getting exposed to a toxin in Bludhaven and that they are working on something to counteract it. He dreams of cigarette smoke and warm, soft leather draped over him. Sometimes he thinks he hears Jason scolding him or making disgusted sounds, but that's probably his imagination too. 

He hasn't betrayed Jason. He spoke in empty, non-confirming terms with Tim about the pills he'd found and about attitude changes. He switched topics when one became too personal. Tim is so eager to help, so desperate to have a brother back even if that brother wants him dead. Dick feels guilty, too, for keeping Jason to himself. For building a relationship with him when he's depriving the rest of his family of the opportunity to do so.

It's Thursday afternoon when he finally shambles into a shower that lasts the two minutes he can stand up. He takes a break before he shuffles into the kitchen that is much better stocked than he remembers leaving it. He dumps out a can of soup into a bowl and microwaves it, pressing his face against the appliance and nearly falling asleep to the soothing hum and vibration of it. The beeping stirs him enough to pull the bowl out and then he sits at his kitchen table with it, staring contemplatively into the liquid and wondering if he can simply plant his face in it and suck. He still feels a little queasy. 

Jason comes walking into the kitchen like he's always been there. Dick stares at him. "No," He says. "You didn't let me in. Bedroom window." 

"It's the middle of the day," Dick protests. 

"No one saw me. Your window faces a nice little alley and I'm quiet." Jason surveys him. Dick has to look down to make sure he's wearing something and finds out that oh good he did remember to put on boxers. His hair is still wet from the shower. "So I see you're alive," Jason tells him casually. "Good for you." 

Dick shrugs and looks for a spoon. He didn't bring one to the table. He looks to the drawer containing the spoons that is just out of reach and resists the urge to whine helplessly. Why does he not have telekinesis? Why does he not have a steady supply of spoons available to him at all times? He stands up, wobbling a little, snatching a spoon out of the drainer in the sink because it looks relatively clean and it's closer than the drawer. Jason remains with his arms crossed, casually leaning against the refrigerator. "You're alive too," Dick says, witty come back stalled in the bog of his mind. "Didn't need me to keep you out of trouble for a week?" 

Jason smirks and oh that is a dangerous, bad look. He stalks forward to drop into the chair across from Dick, crossing his legs with one ankle resting on one knee. "I last saw you ten hours ago, though I'll let that pass since you didn't see me. But we had a discussion yesterday morning about...oh what was it? How upset you still were that Bruce made you give away a parakeet?"

Dick blinks at him. "I can honestly say I have no idea what you are talking about. I never had a parakeet."

"Of course not," Jason replies. "Because Bruce made you give it away."

He's not throwing things or snarling at the mention of Bruce. He seems almost amused. Dick has to focus on getting the spoon of soup to his mouth without spilling any and he's proud of himself when he does. "Seriously. I don't know what you're talking about." 

"I thought you might be delirious," Jason agrees. "But it was an improvement from when you asked me to help you stand up and then threw up all over me. That was cold, man. Lure me in for the kill." Jason shakes his head. "Fortunately it was just the jeans but that is a non-negotiable kink. Hard no." 

Dick is starting to suspect that Jason wasn't in his imagination at all and that those bottles of water and blanket hadn't been left by a benevolent virus fairy. "I don't think I was throwing up on you to be sexual," He protests because he can't think of anything else to say. 

"You asked me to kiss you right before," Jason answers. He does look pleased. "You really don't remember?"

"Not since Monday," Dick admits in a horrified whisper. "You were here?"

"Off and on. No big deal." Jason looks uncomfortable now. "You weren't on patrol and I had some information for you. You basically took care of yourself. I just watched and mocked."

"I'm sure," Dick replies. He spoons more soup into his mouth, suddenly horribly hungry even if he is also slightly nauseated. He glances up to look at Jason who seems like a different person out of his Red Hood uniform. "Thanks though. For the mocking. I bet I needed it." 

"You did. I used your machine to wash and dry my pants and I'm pretty sure they got stained by the amount of ink in your novelty underwear. There wasn't even anything lacey. I'm disappointed." He laughs when Dick groans. He does so enjoy seeing Dick suffer this way. Especially now that he knows he'll pull through and Jason won't be making any awkward calls to Batman anonymously asking him to come check on his oldest son. He wonders if he could even get through that call without a single taunt. It might be difficult but he had considered trying. "I changed your sheets when I came in, by the way. You really need to invest in a better set." 

Dick didn't even know he had an extra pair of sheets, so that's a nice surprise. "I'm going to take my pill for nausea," Dick informs Jason. "And I will make use of those sheets even though they aren't satin like yours." 

"It's all about high thread count cotton," Jason replies like he's serious. "You want some company until you zonk out again? I don't have anything to do until then and I had the cable cut at my place." 

"Knock yourself out," Dick answers. He dumps the bowl of soup into the sink, still half full. He thinks he hears Jason sigh behind him but Dick is already heading into the bedroom. He finds his nausea pills and swallows two before burrowing under the covers against sheets that smell like absolutely nothing, which is heavenly compared to them smelling like illness. 

He's feeling a little like he's floating by the time Jason comes in the room. Dick aggressively pats the empty side of the bed and Jason sits, shaking his head at him. "Nothing good's on TV. You feel up to being my entertainment?"

Dick flips the covers off him, exposing his body back down to his boxers. "I'm yours," He says. "Ravage me."  Jason simply looks at him. Dick huffs. "I'm not that drugged up. Stop looking at me like I am. I'm just tired. Somewhere the curious part of his mind wonders if Jason would have said something similar to him if he'd called him out on a different kind of drug use. 

But Jason's hand does touch him. He touches Dick's chest and runs it down his ribs, counting every scar and imperfection. Jason isn't sure why he's doing it, actually. Why he didn't leave Dick Grayson in a puddle of his own misery and check back to see if he was alive after a week. Of course he had gone in spurts of caring. A trash can by his bed when he realized Dick was barely making it to the toilet to be sick. A blanket when he found him shaking on the floor. Jason could never stand more than fifteen minutes in the place when there was just the smell of sick and the silence that let him know Dick's apartment was soundproof. He pets Dick like he's a dog, rubs his stomach in a soft motion when Dick makes a sound of pleasure at how heat and pressure soothe sore muscles. "You want to play a game?" Jason asks. He's not sure in moments like these what possesses him. 

Maybe he needs to lay claim to Dick again. Maybe he feels the need to mark his territory after his Replacement has been by. Dick clearly loves the kid and that does not bring warm, fuzzy feelings to his heart. It makes him angry. It makes him uncomfortable and envious. He wants to show up and show what part of the first Robin he has, that Tim never will. 

"Okay," Dick says sleepily, stretching even down to his toes as Jason pets him. He feels almost human now that he's bathed and sort of fed and in clean clothes with clean sheets. "What do you want to play? Nothing that makes me move, I hope." But he feels his cock twitch. He tells himself that just because Jason is here and it's been a weak doesn't mean he needs to get hard. He wonders how he got conditioned so quickly but that's not as important as the way Jason's fingers knead his sides. 

"Twenty questions," Jason decides and knows he would never do this with a totally sober Dick. Dick is still in control, still aware, but he's relaxed and weak and Jason can definitely outrun him like this. It's safety. 

"Not in much of a mood to think of a person or a place," Dick replies and yawns so widely that his jaw pops. 

"Not that kind," Jason replies, cursing himself because he should have been more clear. He pushes at the muscle over Dick's ribs, finding a particularly tender place to massage to get him back into compliance. "We each get ten questions and have to answer honestly. If you don't answer a question then you lose a question to ask." It's risky. It's so risky. But Jason has to believe that he has the edge here. 

Dick's eyes narrow. He's caught on to the game, as relaxed as he is. “Ten questions, because I want to be conscious for the last of them.” Jason nods his approval. Dick is exhausted. Still, he's curious what Jason's questions will be. Jason's fingers skirt down over his hipbones and he lifts into the touch, all but purring for him because somehow Jason knows where to touch him to make him feel great. He's getting hard, and he's not sure he cares. "Why did you take care of me when I was sick?"

It's not how Jason expects the first question to go. "I didn't take care of you," He argues. "But you just looked so pathetic and you're a good source of information." 

"Pathetic?" Dick inquires. 

"Elaboration costs you another question, Goldie," Jason replies and might be making up the rules as he goes. "When and by whom did you get your v-card punched?"

Dick blinks. So that's the way Jason wants to play. He can do that. "That's two questions, Little Wing." He smiles up at him, however. "I was fifteen and it's not anyone you've ever met or ever will." 

Jason seems satisfied with that. Jason is satisfied with that because while he knows he associates with basically a score of Dick's former lovers, he's glad he hasn't been with someone who had that privilege. "My turn," Dick says, wriggling on the sheets enough that Jason's hand has to rub against his other hipbone. He thinks of asking the same question, but he's worried. Jason guards his sexual experiences like a dragon guards gold and he breathes just as much fire when he's crossed. "Weirdest sexual experience," Dick prompts. 

"Talia," Jason says without hesitation. "She wasn't even into anything weird. It was just because it was her." 

"Flattering," Dick teases. "But I see your point." He pauses. "Does Bruce know? That's not a question, by the way." 

"God, I hope not." Jason shivers. Dick can't tell if it's faked for effect. He leans down to kiss Dick's shoulder and Dick makes a very pleased noise. "Out of people I know, who was your most recent sexual experience before me?"

"You'll be mad," Dick says, but he only pauses a breath. "Also you're cheating. But, Roy. We ran into each other during some Star City thing. He came back to my hotel room." 

Jason knew they had seen each other. Roy had told him that Dick asked about him, and how he was, and that Roy had given him very little. Roy hadn't included that they'd fucked. Jason isn't sure if he's offended or if he finds that hot. Looking down at Dick, dazed and rubbing against his hand, he thinks it's more hot than anything. Jason traces a circle around his belly button with one finger. 

“You,” Dick says, voice a little heavy. He might be trying to shift so Jason's hand dips lower. “Same question. Doesn't have to be someone I know.” He lifts his own hand, fingers running from the wrist up his arm. It's not like Dick can reach much of Jason from a prone position. 

“A flight attendant. Before that, Roy.” 

“Guy gets around.” 

“You're one to talk, Grayson. I'm trying to be comforting in your hour of need and you're sporting a boner that's getting hard to ignore.” Jason moves over the elastic of his boxers. Dick holds his breath a moment. 

“Then don't ignore it,” Dick counters, when it becomes clear Jason intends to do exactly that. “Your question.” 

“What is your dirtiest sexual fantasy?” Jason can't believe he asked it. Like they're in some kind of cheap porn and he's doing the interview process for the actors to be sold later as behind the scenes footage so everyone thinks they're really into it. But it's the first thing that pops into his head that isn't disturbingly intimate. Funny what qualifies to him as intimate these days. 

“Hmmm,” Dick says. “At this exact moment it's you putting your hand down my boxers and jerking me to an earth shattering orgasm.” 

“Still shameless, I see. Answer the question, Dickface.” 

“Not if you call me names.” Dick's finger catches on a belt loop on Jason's jeans and he tugs it like that does anything at all to get him unclothed or get what he wants. “Nothing really concrete. Don't have just one but...” There's a flush on Dick's face that, for a change, doesn't have anything to do with being sick. “Ropes, sometimes. Being tied up. Held down.” 

“That must make it awkward when your former career was boy hostage,” Jason notes. He's a little disappointed because it's nothing he couldn't have figured out on his own. 

“I have to be willing in the fantasy. It's losing control but it's trusting someone else enough to give them control.” Dick pauses and puts his free arm over his face, forearm covering his eyes. “I can't explain it. It's stupid. I'm going to change my answer to tit-fucking a woman in the back of the Batmobile. Dressed as Nightwing.” 

Jason says nothing for a moment, because he's made Dick lose control. Dick's let that control be taken from him and that means he trusts Jason. The thought has touched him before but now it sinks in. 

“If you're thinking about Babs, she's going to find out,” Dick tells him, mistaking his silence for a bit of fantasy of his own or a bit of disgust. “Woman has magic powers.” 

Jason slips a hand beneath Dick's boxers, at last touching his cock. Dick arches up and shudders all over, shifting restlessly when Jason simply holds his cock in his hand and provides no additional stimulation. “Your turn.” It's enough of a distraction that Dick almost forgets what he just said. 

“Have you ever been with someone you thought you might have a future with? Go somewhere with?” Dick rushes the words, melding a few of them. He's clearly been holding on to the question for a while, and now Jason has him thoroughly distracted. “Move your hand.”

“What do we say?” Jason coaxes, and it gives him time to think. 

“Pretty please?” Dick guesses, licking his lips like he always does when he's frustrated. The hand on Jason's jeans moves under his shirt, resting lightly against his side. Dick is all about the skin to skin contact.

“I was going for 'right the fuck now' but 'pretty please' will work.” Jason decides that, if the reaction from his dick is anything, he wants that said to him again. Preferably moaned and begged to him. “No, Dickiebird. Between being Robin and being dead and the rest of fucked up shit my life has become I was never with anyone like that. I don't have a future and I sure as hell don't want to fuck up anyone else's.” 

He moves his hand. Dick cries out in pure need, pure relief, as he lazily pumps his cock in and out of the channel Jason's made with his hand. It's a little rough, it needs a little more lube, but Jason's spreading precome down his shaft with each stroke and a swipe of his thumb. “I'm the opposite,” Dick murmurs, eyes shut again and head tilted back. So trusting, exposing his throat. “I always see a future with someone I'm with and most of the time it isn't there.” 

Jason thinks he sounds a little mournful. He knows about Barbara, and about Starfire. He's sure Dick Grayson has broken lots of hearts and the only hearts Jason troubled he did so by dying. “I didn't ask you the question.” 

Dick sighs. “Consider it a freebie.” Even now he notices that, though Jason is handling his erection, he's not quite active in it. Not so much jerking him off as allowing his hand to be used for that purpose. He wants to know, but he has one question left after Jason asks his. He doesn't want to waste it. 

Jason, likewise, is considering his limited questions. There's something fierce and aching in his chest when he thinks about futures, because his is always linked with his past. _Did you love me? Do you love me now?_ His mind screams at him to ask. _Did Bruce ever love me?_ And it feels so greedy, so wrong, that he wants to know these things. It didn't change a damn thing if they had loved him or hated him. It was his own, selfish desire that made him want to ask. 

Dick's breathing speeds up and he tosses his head to the side, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he offers a moan. An unenthusiastic handjob shouldn't be doing this to him, but it certainly is. He's not even that hard up for sex, yet here he is. His back is aching, his head is throbbing, and everything feels like it's floating but he's still fucking into Jason's fist like his life depends on it. 

“Did you ever imagine a future with me?” And Jason's treacherous mouth has run away with him. He tries to do damage control. He actually moves his hand on Dick's cock, quickens the pace enough that his partner cries out and his fingers clench, digging into his skin. 

But when Dick looks up at him, his gaze is surprisingly warm. “I do,” He says. “All the time.” Then he's pumping his hips again, ruining the moment, a fact for which Jason is supremely grateful. Jason goes with it. Anything to distract Dick, anything to keep something else dumb from slipping out of his lips. 

“Why do you...” Dick is panting. He's out of breath already, no doubt from the fact he's barely moved and barely eaten in days. “Why do you keep seeing me? The sex? Or...the connection?” Because, even like this, he can't bring himself to say that maybe Jason cares. That maybe the relationship they've built on a screwed up kind of sexual need has turned into something else. 

He's not a liar. He imagines futures with Jason in them all the time. He imagines Jason happy like he can will it to come true. 

Jason doesn't answer. He leans down to kiss him. Dick eagerly lifts his head to it, gasps against his lips and Jason smirks. “I want you to paint the inside of my hand white,” He whispers. Dick feels a traitorous burn of pleasure. He wants to protest, but he feels captive in his own body, under Jason's spell. “Come,” Jason commands and Dick fucking does without even meaning to. His vision grays out and there's nothing but Jason in all his senses. 

Jason's hand stops moving at some point as Dick is still mindlessly rolling his hips against him. He pulls out his hand a moment later. “You're lucky you've been sick,” He says. “Because next time I'm going to make you lick this off my hand.” 

Dick actually mewls at that, a weak sound of protest and want at the same time. Jason wipes his seed off on Dick's boxers and Dick makes a face. It's going to ruin his sheets if he tries to sleep in them. “Asshole.” 

“You knew that going into this,” Jason retorts, but he takes pity on Dick enough to find him some new underwear. 

“You didn't answer my question,” Dick reminds him, eyes averted as he tries to change clothes without actually moving that much or sitting upright at all. His limbs feel heavy. His mind is grasping at straws he's going to have to pick up when he wakes again. 

“I don't want to answer,” Jason replies. “And I forfeit my last question.” Dick can't even accuse him of cheating, not just because it's a made up game but because Jason had laid out that rule when they first began. 

“Okay,” He says simply. What else can he say? If he presses, Jason will lash out. Jason will run. He's held as captive by Jason's madness as Jason himself is in moments like these. “I'll be here if you ever want to tell me.” Dick forces a smile to his face, glad the last of the nausea is slipping away and he can maybe get some decent, healing sleep. “Thanks, too. For making sure I didn't die.” 

Jason would say it was the least he could do, but the least he could do would be to make sure Dick's maimed body didn't end up on the lawn of Wayne Manor for his family to find. So he, wisely, says nothing. He doesn't help Dick pull the covers back over himself; he's only looking for his cell phone that turns out to be in his pocket all along. 

“I didn't do anything for you,” Dick adds, eyes slitted but clearly focused on the crotch of Jason's jeans. 

“I'll make you suffer for it another time,” Jason promises. He finds _Dick's_ phone and drops it on the pillow by his head. “Text your butler and your ex girlfriend,” Jason reminds him. “They worry.”  
Dick's asleep before he actually manages to reply to anyone. Jason leaves out the window and Dick doesn't know until much later that his family doesn't break down his door because someone else lets them know he's alright.


End file.
